


Four wolves, a lioness, and a bard walk into Kaer Morhen...

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Wolfy Bois [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Geralt u spoiled brat, Lambert done fucked up, M/M, Puppy Piles, Wolves, except Ciri she is MUCH cooler than a wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: Drunk Witchers are dangerous... to themselves.In which Geralt acts like a puppy, Ciri ambushes everyone, Eskel and Vesemir are innocent, Lambert fucked up... and Jaskier has to fix it. Oh dear.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Wolfy Bois [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826140
Comments: 42
Kudos: 349





	Four wolves, a lioness, and a bard walk into Kaer Morhen...

**Author's Note:**

> I will NEVER get over Jaskier carrying wolf!Geralt, y'all can't make me

“Oh dear.”

The five Witchers looked up at Jaskier mournfully. Geralt was curled up around Ciri, who was not a wolf but a nearly full-grown lioness, and also the most miserable of them all, since she had never been transformed before.

“What did you five get into now?” Jaskier demanded, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not spending a whole winter waiting for you to change back.”

Lambert flattened his ears and shrunk down a little, tail tucked. The others glared at him—except Vesemir, who lunged and grabbed Lambert by the scruff of his neck, ignoring his surprised yelp, and began dragging him to the lab. Eskel followed, making concerned noises. Geralt gave Ciri’s head a quick wash, then nudged her with his nose. They both stood and went to Jaskier, Ciri twining around his legs and Geralt rearing up to put his paws on Jaskier’s shoulder and touch their noses together, whining softly.

“It was Lambert’s fault, wasn’t it,” Jaskier asked wearily. Geralt nodded. “Ah fuck. Alright, let’s follow, and I’ll see what I can do.”

~

Jaskier had always been good at healing preparations, and had even learned to make some of Geralt’s Witcher potions with great reliability. But it was still impressive when he read the book left open on the table, identified every ingredient strewn around the lab, and said, “Well, this will definitely take experimenting, but I think I can do this. I know most of these ingredients. But it will take longer than the fifteen days the book claims, you can’t rush dried mandrake flakes.”

He shooed the Witchers out, with a kiss each for Geralt and Ciri, and got to work.

At first Geralt was grumpy about having to go up stairs himself, and not getting pets and scritches from his bard, but then Ciri pounced on him and they ended up chasing each other around the ground floor, pouncing and wrestling and jumping all over furniture. Lambert eagerly joined the game, and playful growls filled the keep as they all three “fought”. Vesemir jumped up on a couch in the library, curled up, and went to sleep. Eskel started rooting around in the kitchen.

Geralt, Ciri, and Lambert ended up in the kitchen too, panting and properly tired. Ciri flopped in front of the fireplace and huffed as she washed her paws. Lambert helped Eskel up on to the counter so he could reach the cheese, and when Eskel brought it down, he and Lambert made absolute pigs of themselves. Geralt dove in and snatched a chunk, and brought it to Ciri, who chuffed again and gobbled the cheese. Geralt flopped next to her, and they both watched with some amusement as Lambert found a salted ham and Eskel tried to snatch it, ending up jamming their snouts together so hard they both yelped.

After a few minutes, Jaskier came it and scolded them all so thoroughly that even Geralt was ashamed. Then he cut the ham into pieces and fed it to them, sighing, “Might as well, at this point. Oh, I’ll get water, too.”

The water was put into large bowls, and all four Witchers lapped it up noisily (well, Ciri was quieter, but she also didn’t play-growl at her father and uncles while they snapped at each other). While they were busy, Jaskier slipped away; Geralt noticed, and snapped his head up, sniffing the air as water matted down the fur of his neck. He shook his head briskly, then trotted away to find Jaskier.

Vesemir passed him in the front hall, and Geralt gave him a quick muzzle-lick in greeting. Vesemir flicked his ears and grumbled, but smelled pleased. Then they parted ways, Vesemir to check on his cubs, Geralt to find Jaskier.

The bard was walking around the lab, gathering and organizing ingredients and paraphernalia. Geralt sat in the doorway and watched. He’d chosen his mate well. Jaskier was quick and efficient when he needed to be, as evidenced by the way he got the lab in order before going back to the book Lambert had been experimenting with and searching it for the antidote. Geralt flattened his ears a little as he thought about how they’d gotten into this predicament. Really, Witchers should know better than to drink strange potions, but Lambert had convinced his brothers it would be fun, and then Ciri had claimed that, as another wolf of Kaer Moren, they weren’t allowed to leave her out; Vesemir had walked in while Lambert was dividing the potion into four cups, and demanded to know what was going on. Then he demanded to be part of it.

It had not been helpful that all of them had been very drunk.

Eskel, surprisingly, had been the most visibly upset; Ciri had crawled under Geralt’s chest, shivering and smelling distressed, but giving no other signs. Vesemir had snarled and smacked Lambert, who had immediately rolled on his back and whined.

Geralt was just glad Jaskier had already gone to bed at that point. He didn’t want to know how long they all would have been like that if Jaskier had been affected too.

Jaskier wiped his hands on a cloth, eyeing his workstation, then noticed Geralt and smiled. “Hello,” he said, and knelt. Geralt immediately trotted over and licked Jaskier’s face because he didn’t have a muzzle. Jaskier laughed and kissed Geralt’s head right between his ears. “My darling idiot,” Jaskier said fondly, hugging him around the neck. “I’m glad you’ve mastered your silliness over stairs. Now, where do you keep the dried mandrake?”

Geralt helped as best he could, tail wagging every time Jaskier pet him or scratched his ear or gave him a little kiss, and found himself wondering why, in humanoid form, he was content to leave Jaskier to his business, but in wolf form, he couldn’t really stay away for long.

Jaskier worked for several hours, concentrating fiercely. Geralt, seeing there was no further need for him, retreated to the doorway and dozed. Even rough, cold, mildewed stone was fine for napping when Jaskier was near.

How very odd of him.

“Maybe I’ve domesticated you,” Jaskier joked, making Geralt’s ears perk, though he didn’t open his eyes. “All the others are properly wolf-like, and you just laze around wherever I am. Big bad wolf my arse.”

Geralt thwapped his tail on the floor a few times in lazy agreement, and Jaskier laughed.

There came a time, though, where the potion had to be given a few hours to sit; so Jaskier carried Geralt upstairs again and everyone had lunch (the Witchers bolted meat and Jaskier had potatoes, carrots, and a few slices of chicken). After half an hour of lazing on a couch together, Jaskier and Geralt went back to the lab. Ciri padded after them, rubbing her shoulder against Geralt’s and thrusting her head under Jaskier’s hand for pets of her own.

“You’re both too cute for your own good,” Jaskier murmured affectionately.

They both dozed out of Jaskier’s way, as he checked his concoction and finished organizing the lab before sitting down on a stool at the bench and reading an alchemy book. It was very peaceful. Geralt liked it.

Eventually Ciri stretched, padded over, and flopped on top of Geralt, purring. It was a much deeper purr than a domesticated cat, but that’s what it was. He allowed this because she was his cub and he loved her—and also having a nice deep pressure on his back and ribs was surprisingly comforting.

“Huh!” Jaskier murmured suddenly. “That’s all it takes to make a healing potion? Interesting…” He got up, carefully set the book aside, and began looking through drawers and cupboards. Geralt watched with one eye, and was surprised when Jaskier sterilized the correct beakers, gathered the correct ingredients, and began making the potion absolutely correctly. Well, why wouldn’t he? Jaskier knew so much and was very careful. It didn’t take much thought to come to the conclusion that he was just good at alchemy. Or mimicry. But still.

When night came, Jaskier had already set up the potion to simmer for eight days, and made a batch of about seven different kinds of Witcher potions. He picked up Geralt, and Ciri trotted ahead of them up the stairs.

Instead of being in their beds, the other Witchers had made a nest of blankets and furs in Geralt’s room. On _his_ bed. The fuckers. They were all huddled together, even Vesemir—Ciri meowed and bounded over and up to flop on top of her uncles and grandfather, twisting around to snuggle between Vesemir and Eskel. Geralt growled, offended at his den being infiltrated, but Jaskier laughed and gave everyone soft scritches before lying down and curling around the nest, since there was barely any room. Geralt laid on top of Jaskier, who wheezed another laugh but didn’t tell him no.

The pack was safe and warm, and eventually, Geralt accepted that this was good.

~

The remedy took a very long time. Jaskier was constantly checking on it, carefully timing it, adding things and straining and simmering some more. Geralt didn’t think _any_ of the Witchers had spent this much time getting a potion right, let alone such a small amount.

There was wrestling and fight-practice— _not_ playing, as Geralt kept telling himself. However, when he got too carried away and bit Eskel too hard, making his brother yelp in surprise, he immediately let go and backed off until Eskel snorted and jumped at him, snapping in retaliation.

Ciri practiced her ambush skills constantly, and soon her family became wary in their own home—not afraid, just suspicious. No one every caught her out, but she did let them go after the first pounce so she could chase them, yowling while they barked.

Jaskier was immune to playing. He kept an eye on the remedy, but when he came upstairs to cuddle and pet Geralt, everyone calmed down and gathered around to nap and beg for attention. Lambert especially liked chin-scritches.

Finally, it was twenty days, and Jaskier proclaimed the potion finished. Lambert would test it first, as punishment; Lambert whimpered, but went to the lab with Jaskier. The rest of the pack stayed upstairs.

Jaskier’s laugh suddenly rang out up the stairs, and Lambert snarled, “It’s not funny, bard!”

“On the contrary, it’s hilarious!” Jaskier replied gleefully. “Go put some clothes on and fetch everyone else some as well.”

Ciri immediately padded away from the stairs, laid down, and covered her eyes with her paws. The wolves looked at each other in alarm. Oh no.

And here came Lambert, his face red, utterly naked—and sporting a tail. He had a hand over his crotch, but when he saw Ciri was not looking, he gave up trying to hide. The men had all seen each other before, after all.

“Not a _word_ ,” Lambert snarled at them all, and stomped away.

Jaskier came halfway up the stairs to call, “Hey, Eskel, how about you next? Then Geralt, then Ciri, then Vesemir. In order of giving in to Lambert’s drunk lies.”

Eskel sighed heavily and trotted down the steps, head and tail low.

It didn’t take too long for Lambert to return, still red-faced with embarrassment; he came back with clothes, and handed Ciri a pair of trousers and her nightshirt. Ciri huffed and grabbed the clothes in her mouth. Then Lambert dropped two pairs of trousers on top of Geralt and Vesemir and trotted down the steps to bring Eskel his.

Eskel had a tail, too, and looked just as humiliated, constantly adjusting his clothes because the rough hole he’d cut in them did not fit his tail correctly. Geralt slunk down the stairs reluctantly, and found Jaskier stifling chuckles as he poured out another measure of the potion.

“Could’ve let it sit longer,” he said cheerfully, “But I think the tails are rather majestic. And the potion should curdle a little in your stomachs, which will release the power a bit more, so the tails may go away overnight. Anyway, drink.”

Geralt sighed and let Jaskier pour the potion down his throat. It wasn’t a painful transformation, just slow and prickly, and he ended up on his hands and knees, very naked. And with a tail. He sighed heavily and stood, wincing as his joints cracked. Jaskier was already behind him, measuring where he’d need to cut the hole in the ass of his trousers. That was a quick operation, though, and though the hole was high, at least it didn’t hurt.

“What about Ciri?” Geralt asked abruptly.

“There’s a towel in the cupboard, I’ll put that over her and not look,” Jaskier replied. “What clothes did Lambert bring her?”

“A nightshirt and some trousers.”

“That should be fine. At least he didn’t go digging for a breastband.”

“What’s a breastband?” Geralt asked, bewildered.

Jaskier stared at him, shocked. Then he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s what it sounds like. Women wear them. I helped her make some her first winter while we waited for Yennefer to get her proper ones.”

Geralt frowned, then realization struck, and his face burned. “Oh,” he said weakly.

“Exactly. You can go now.”

Geralt nodded, forced himself to forget the fact that he had just been reminded rather sharply that his daughter was an adult and needed adult clothing, and trudged up the stairs, already missing being carried. He really was spoiled.

~

The next day, Lambert attempted to jeer at Geralt for being domesticated, but Jaskier reached over and scratched his chin and he shut up, scowling and blushing. Geralt smirked and wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist.

After everyone went out to follow their Paths, traveling with just Jaskier was a treat. Even when Geralt had to hold him back from stabbing or brawling. He always apologized with quick kisses when they were alone, which usually made Jaskier smile. But Jaskier didn’t stop getting in fights, or killing monsters on his own out of sheer annoyance.

Geralt found this hilarious. _He_ may be domesticated, but his feral mate wasn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone in favor of a reverse situation where Geralt has to break a transformation curse on Jaskier, say aye. And if aye, please leave suggestions for animals. I'm considering a goat.
> 
> (oh also just regular comments are my lifeblood I beg of thee end my hunger for interaction)
> 
> Edit on 7/15/2020: I have decided what craecher Jaskier will become. At first. >u> There were so many great suggestions!! I want to do them all!!! But I'll pick four. Thank you everyone!
> 
> Edit on 7/16/2020: IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN AND POSTED, thank you for your suggestions!!! <3 <3 <3 <3


End file.
